I haven’t been on holiday, per se, but my brain has … for like a week … or longer. At least yesterday I had an excuse. It was a true holiday, and a good’n at that … Independence Day. Happy Birthday, America … let freedom ring!
Hehe. But that’s not what this post is about. It’s about finding my brain and hoping I do so soon! About a week ago, I was veggin’ out in front of the TV doin’ da ROKU thang when someone came to the door. It was a real estate agent with a potential buyer to look at my house … doh! I thought, “Now, why didn’t my agent call me to let me know, doggone it?!” Everything about my house spelled disaster, except for the yard, which had been recently manicured. Here was the issue:
So what does Garlic Sauce hafta do with anything other than the fact that even toes taste good dipped in it? Whoops, wrong post; hell … wrong blog! Well, I have two cell phones, each with a different number. Why? Cuz I’m a BIDNESS WOMAN, FOO’! Ha ha, no. It’s because my late hubby had one, and every time I want to cancel it, I get lured in by the newest, technologically advanced phone at a discounted price (ya right), if I only sign another 2-year contract but it’s not really an upgrade discount cuz then we charge you an upgrade fee – yackity, yack … yuck. Anyhow, the garlic sauce found its way onto one of my phones, marinating it all night, rendering Floyd da Droid virtually useless (but smelling quite tasty). Turned out, my real estate agent had called me on my other phone, but I didn’t recognize the number so didn’t pick up.
That’s me (my hair keeps on-a growing)! When I was younger, I would PRAY for my phone to ring and dance around like a flying banshee when it did. Now, I usually either have the ringer off, or when it rings, I start screaming violently, “Who in the f*#$-sake is that?!” Which brings me to one of the joys of modern technology … ring tones! They save me from fits of anger cuz there are a select few peeps I don’t mind chattin’ with over the wires … uh, the unwires, so they get special tones. I’ve since replaced Floyd with Max:
Pretty sweet, huh?! Got this baby two days ago. I went on the Verizon website and did the online “chat” thing with some saleslady. Good thing she had a great sense of humor, cuz I told her that Verizon, while the best service out there, completely has its customers by the gonads! HOWEVER, back to that, “If I only had a brain,” thing.
First order of bidness, according to the directions, is to insert the SIM card. I couldn’t find one at first … did a buncha googling, then I found it in the box. It wouldn’t stay in when I stuck it in the way the image showed, so I put it in upside down … hey, it stayed in … looks like I’m on the right track! Didn’t work though. Then I couldn’t get the wafer out, but I delicately did so with tweezers and inserted the stupid SIM card the way the pic showed. Still ain’t working right. I packed it up and put it away for a day when I have more patience. So if anyone’s been trying to get me on the 4374 number, there’s your ‘splanation. Oh, and the folks who wanted to see my house that day I didn’t get the message … they decided not to see my house after all. Hmmph!
So you’d think that would’ve taught me something, eh?! Like howzabout keeping the ringer on and even better, howzabout keepin’ da dang BeastHouse clean, since it IS up on the market?! I have no explanation for either, but I got lucky last evening. I had to pee — was diagnosed with teeny weeny bladder syndrome years ago — walked by my phone on the way to the head and it was ringing (I only knew cuz it was lit up). It was my real estate agent asking to show the house today at 11:15. I was like, “Truck yeah!” New song by Tim McGraw … wicked good … look it up on youtube or itunes. After that call, I realized I better get to cleaning.
What I’m saying is, it needed cleaning bad as it was nowhere near immaculate cuz I’m every last bit of fascinating. No really … I can be … at times … in a batshit crazy kinda way … like carvinal-show material. But hey, why start cleaning in the evening? I actually did but then found some more dang pics to go through. That halted my progress til this morn. Trips down memory lane are far more important!
So today, I started cleaning around 9 a.m. … I work better under pressure. I was well on target to be outta the house by 11:14, give or take 45 seconds. I had it in my mind that the agent said 11:15 but really wasn’t coming til 11:30, just wanted to be sure I was outta sight. I dunno why I thought that, a secret wish I suppose. Anyway, at about 10:50, all I had left to do was sweep and mop the kitchen floor, then quickly vacuum the other rooms. In an effort to save time (work smarter, not harder), I swept all the gunk from the kitchen floor onto the adjacent living room carpet rather than picking it up with a dustpan. It made quite a pile right in front of the side door, where peeps enter, that I figured I would suck up with the vacuum. I shudda taken a pic because I got the floor mopped and every room vacuumed except for the living room. Then they showed up … like 12 minutes early.
I was a hot freakin’ mess. By hot, I mean temperaturewise … you know, like sweaty. By mess, I mean I had on a T-shirt and a pair of striped boy shorts … yes … underwear. Thank goodness I saw them pull in and was able to run into the bedroom to throw on some sweats. I’m afraid that “work smarter” thing came back to bite me in the ass cuz the first thing the potential buyers saw when they walked in was that pile of kitchen gunk. Sambone was being all cute and submissive, which was good cuz they seemed to like her – maybe that got some points. I just apologized and said, “y’all are early; I’m leaving now,” and walked out. I wish I had done some giggling or cracked a joke or something, but what’s done is done. They seemed understanding.
There are a couple things I do when the house is being shown. I use dim lighting for ambiance:
Hard to tell here, but there is a set of white Christmas lights on top of the cabinets and two small overhead lights over the sink. I didn’t have time to hang the disco ball and put on some Marvin Gaye music.
In the master bedroom, I turn on the ceiling fan and the two nightstand lights, and I shut off the fan lights.
There is a method to my madness. I am trying to divert the potential buyers from turning on any added lights because the brighter it is, the easier it is to see potentially not-so-clean spots, like if I missed a spot dusting or mopping or something.
Well, I’m off to find my brain … as far as the doctor’s appointments … waiting for the blood work … maybe that will explain some things. Meantime, I’m gonna try to keep da BeastHouse clean, but if I do, Murphy’s law sez ain’t nobody will come look at it.